Chapter 6
Caleb gets a call and excuses himself, leaving me with that bombshell about Aubrey. It’s not enough. I can’t avoid this feeling that I want to know more and more, and the pull to her annoys me. What happened to just getting away and enjoying the bed-and-breakfast life? Relaxing? Claiming some mental and physical distance from Johanna?
I walk back toward the tall, three-story house Caleb and Lauren apparently painted not long ago. I eye the peppy, bold yellow that should infuse me with some happiness. Even plain old energy would do. All I feel right now is a headache though, and it’s not even really dinnertime yet.
As soon as I walk from the future construction site, I find Lauren and Aubrey getting ready to take off. Lauren slides into the driver’s side door of the old pickup we didn’t ride to the restaurant in. It seems like a relic from long ago, likely Marian’s truck that she doesn’t want to get rid of for those chances someone might need it at the BB.
“Hey, Dalton,” Lauren greets from the open window. Her smile is an easy one, bright with her obvious good mood.
I smile back. “What are you two up to?”
“I’m taking Aubrey into town. I figure I can show her around, and we can spend a day together before I dive into all the projects I’m busting to do here.”
“Yeah, before you get too busy with the motel you’re renovating.”
She giggles. “Oh, it’ll all fit in. I love staying busy. But today, it’ll be our girls’ day.”
“Sounds like fun.” For you. There goes my opportunity to show Aubrey I’m not a total asshole for no reason.
“Ready?” Lauren leans out the open window, calling out to Aubrey.
“Yeah, I grabbed a water bottle for you”—she glances up from running down the porch steps and stills at the sight of me there—“too.”
“Thanks,” Lauren says.
I don’t face her again, too stuck on how much Aubrey looks so happy, so free and content until she spots me. She maintains eye contact, eyeing me as she tosses her bag through the passenger window. When she pauses to narrow her eyes before getting in, I wonder why I want to bother to make amends.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I open and close my mouth. First, I want to argue that I’m not staring, just looking. But that sounds like an argument and I’m trying to avoid that.
Instead, I glare at her, peeved with the way she clings to making me the enemy. I walk away, scolding myself for even thinking about her. I’ll kill some time on my laptop. I can always check work stuff.
I don’t get far with that plan because as soon as I enter the house, I bump into Marian. When Caleb introduced us the day before, I got an instant first impression of a kind and possibly hippie older woman. She stops me now in the hallway, smiling warmly. “Caleb, come with me please. I need you in the kitchen.”
I follow, lured to obey this motherly woman. She’s not demanding, just thoroughly suggestive. Once I enter the kitchen, I nearly growl at the delicious smells lingering in there. Damn, am I hungry.
“What can I do?” I ask, no stranger to helping out. I haven’t had a chance to actually talk with this woman, but from the little I’ve seen and how highly Caleb and Lauren praise her, I want to be acquainted with her.
She whisked me in here, but when I reach for the spatula placed atop a pot of what looks like water eager to boil, she gently swats at me. “Hands off. I have a system in my kitchen. You’ve got to respect it.”
“System in the kitchen?” I chuckle as she replaces the wooden spatula where it was and slides over to prep veggies on a cutting board. “Sounds like a rhyme.”
She smiles. “I have heard that before. But please, sit.”
I pull out a chair and raise my eyebrows when she brings a plate to me at the circular table.
“I only wanted to bribe you to come sit and talk. Caleb has told me so much about you, but I figure I need to get to know you and establish my own opinions.”
I smile and dig into the hearty stew. It’s got to be leftovers because she’s clearly cooking something else with chicken and noodles now. But it’s delicious.
“So, what opinion should I form?” she asks as she preps food for dinner.
“Are you fishing for information?”
“I sure am. Will you oblige?”
I grin and open up to her. Starting with the usual bits about where I’m from, what I do for a living, and how I met Caleb. I share myself with her, She doesn’t pester or interrupt with interjections or personal comments. Instead, she listens. This BB owner is such a good and reliable audience, I end up telling her about Johanna, too. I don’t get into all the details, but I tell her about the cheating and the breakup. There’s no reason to tell her about the way my ex continues to contact me. That’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it somehow.
By the time I clear my plate, I realize I’ve told her far more than I figured I should. It’s like she put me into a trance, inviting me to share so much that I relieve myself of the burden weighing me down. I do feel better now, getting all of this weight off my shoulders.
Still, I can’t keep going. I’m sure she intended to get to know me, but I doubt anyone can enjoy sitting still and hearing a whiny account like mine. I clamp my mouth shut and wonder how I became so loose-lipped so quickly.
Marian notices my hesitation to keep talking, but she doesn’t push for more, perhaps respecting I’ve reached my limit. She changes the subject when she realizes I’ve clammed up.
“Just like Aubrey,” she comments. “She’s sad too.”
I wouldn’t say I was sad about what Johanna did to me. Feeling sad came first, but now, a bitter anger lingers.
“The woman has been moping around since she arrived.” She sighs and turns from the stove to rest against the counter space next to it. “Now, when Lauren arrived, she was a mess, particularly in the ugly wedding gown. Aubrey, though, I can’t put my finger on what’s troubling her.”
“Have you asked?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. Maybe you can.”
“Me?” I laugh.
“Yes, you. Maybe you two can spend time with each other.”
My laughter gets louder, and I shake my head as I stand. “Thanks, Marian.” I express my gratitude for the delicious meal and then for her giving me a chance to spill my guts. “I’m heading up to my room for a while.”
“I do hope you’ll consider what I said,” she calls after me.
About spending time with Aubrey? I snort and walk upstairs. I can’t see that happening anytime soon, not naturally.
Once I reach the privacy of my room, I sit on the bed and check out a few things for work. Every now and then, I catch myself glancing at the connecting door that leads into Aubrey’s room, but every time I realize where I’m looking, I force myself to pay attention to my laptop again.
It’s a lost cause. She’s on my mind. I’m not sure why I took so much time off for this trip, because if she doesn’t give me the time of day, what am I going to do? Caleb will be busy. Lauren, too. Hell, maybe I can help Marian and ask her if I can help in the kitchen and finally learn how to cook. I’ve never wanted to try. It’s not because I’m loaded, it’s because I’ve always been scared I’d give myself food poisoning screwing something up.
All I’ve done since I took time off is feel sorry for myself. That and grumble about Johanna. Don’t they say no answer is an answer? That my lack of replies should clue her in to the fact I’m not interested in engaging in a conversation with her?
As I sit there, I realize I have had something else on my mind too. Someone else.
Aubrey.
I pull my laptop over and look her up. I skimmed her social media content before, but this time, I slow down and read all the posts. I follow all the tags. It feels like snooping, but it’s not. If I really wanted to snoop, I would. I had a spell of boredom and learned a few tricks. Back in what Caleb calls my “nerdy tech wannabe phase,” I picked up a few handy skills. I’m no hacker, but I can more extensively poke around online. It’s been a critical skill when looking into properties and ownership issues, as well.
Just like I saw before, Aubrey is—or was, according to her lie—a fun-loving teacher. I smile to myself, amused at her silly expressions in the classroom, imagining how she likely changes her voice to match each character’s. I slow on the images of her at school fundraiser events and volunteering for class trips to the beach.
It’s becoming clear she must like spending time outside. I’m more of a gym guy, but I can hike. I’m enjoying nature so far out here. I like being outside, too.
But I doubt I could backpack for a weekend somewhere and rough it like she might be able to.
I shake my head. Why am I even considering that? Why am I looking for a way to align her interests with something I would be up to doing?
I cringe at the way I’m clearly trying to find a method to get her to warm up to me.
What the hell am I thinking? I flop onto the bed. Tossing my arm over my eyes, I sigh and let my phone fall to the mattress. It lands with a buzz, and I groan. Rolling my head without getting up, I grope for it and regret reading the notification of a text on the screen.
Johanna: I really want to make things right.
I snort a laugh and drop the phone again as I cover my eyes.
Does she?
Do I?
What even is right anymore?